


Unpredictable

by MavenAlysse



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU in that none of the kids of Burgess are present, Appearances Can Be Deceiving, Gen, Isolation, Kidnapping, Mild torture, Winter's Child, beatings, boy are they surprised when they find out, ignorance of situations, nightmares to turn allegiances, no one really knows what Jack truly is, power struggles, when is a guardian not a Guardian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenAlysse/pseuds/MavenAlysse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Appearances arenm't everything. How can you know how a person will react when you've never spoken to them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Recruiting' Jack / Within Pitch's Lair / Time with Toothiana

Unpredictable

 

'Rise of the Guardians' story

 

by: Maven Alysse

 

Summary: Appearances aren't everything. How can you know how a person will react when you've never spoken to them?

 

A/N: I've watched the movie only twice (but was impressed enough to buy it right after seeing it in the theater). Three days after the second viewing, I started this tale. I had a wonderful plotline all charted out with Jack actually joining Pitch for a while before discovering he'd been tricked.... but then Jack decided to go off on a tangent (he's tricky that way.) He decided that my idea was good, but that this would be even better. It frustrated me at first, but in the end I think he was right. It ended up a bit darker than I originally planned, but it ends on a high note. I hope everyone enjoys reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

888

888

 

Unpredictable

 

Moonlight shone upon the sigil on the floor causing it to open and a crystal rose from the floor.

 

“Do you know what this means?” Toothiana twittered as she flew in a tight circle. “It means we're getting a new Guardian.”

 

“Why do we need a new Guardian?” E. Aster Bunnymund blustered, ears laid back against the Pooka's head. “We're strong enough to take care of Pitch on our own.”

 

Nicolas St. North waved a hand in dismissal. “Apparently, Man in Moon disagrees,” his Russian accent thickened in his own excitement.

 

Bunny huffed. “Well, as long as it's not the Groundhog, I guess it's okay.”

 

An image shimmered above the crystal, coalescing into a short, lithe figure with bare feet, carrying a crooked staff; a cocky smile peeked out from beneath a pulled up hood.

 

“Jack Frost!” Tooth squealed as several of her fairies swooned in delight.

 

“I changed my mind. I'd rather have the Groundhog,” Bunny groused.

 

“I must admit, he would not have been first choice.” North looked uncertain, his brows furrowed, but then his expression cleared with a good natured shrug of the shoulders. “Well, Man in Moon has his reasons for all.”

 

A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye had Sanderson Mansnoozie turning sharply to stare in the direction of the balcony. One of the drapes gave a suspicious twitch. Eyes narrowed, the golden man floated closer, his actions catching the attention of the others.

 

“What is it, Sandy?” North followed the short being, one hand drifting down to his sword hilt.

 

A question mark made of sand appeared above the Sandman's head, along with an image of the balcony and the twitching curtain.

 

Drawing his sword, North strode forward and pulled aside the curtain, prepared to deal a dastardly blow to any intruder; his nerves on edge since Pitch had invaded his home.

 

A tiny elf froze in mid-bite of the cookie it had absconded with. At the angry expression upon North's face, the poor thing gave a startled squeak and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

 

“Bah,” the large man turned from the creature. “Bunny, go collect Jack Frost. We need to induct him as Guardian.” He stroked his beard, a gleam of glee appearing in his eyes as he handed over one of his toy sacks. “Take two of my Yetis to help.” The Spirit of Christmas gave a hearty laugh. “Will be good joke, yes?”

 

A grin spread across Bunny's face as he took the sack.”Now you're talkin' mate.”

 

“I don't think...” Toothiana began, but sighed as her protests were ignored. She exchanged uneasy glances with Sanderson., then spoke louder. “Bunny doesn't get along with Jack. Maybe a more neutral party should be the one to talk to him?”

 

“Nonsense,” North dismissed. “Frost is Guardian. All will be well.” The two holiday Guardians walked out of the room, bantering back and forth about the possible places Frost could be at this time. “Use one of my snowglobe portals once you have him.”

 

“Sure enough, mate. But, I'll be returning me own way, if ya don't mind.”

 

“Won't that be too slow?”

 

“Nah, I'll arrive quicker than two shakes of a rabbit's tail.”

 

888

 

After the close call on the balcony, Pitch Black sped away from North's fortress, his mind working feverishly. So, the Man in the Moon chose Jack Frost as a Guardian, did he? Why? The snow child had even fewer believers than Pitch, if any at all, and as far as the Boogeyman knew, no mortals could even see the spirit. So, why did the Man in the Moon think Frost would be of any help against him?

 

An evil smile curled his lips in remembrance. For years, the snow child played pranks on other spirits, trying to gain their attention. Unfortunately, the attention he gained tended towards the negative. On one memorable occasion, Frost had caused a blizzard that ruined Easter Sunday in '68. Bunnymund had been furious and had threatened the spirit with pain and dismemberment if he got his paws on him. Years later, even a mention of the incident caused the giant Rabbit to splutter in anger and frustration.

 

If the Spirit of Hope planned on 'collecting' Frost … Pitch cackled and sped up.

 

888

 

E. Aster Bunnymund stood in the shadows of the ally, a broad grin on his face as an icy breeze brushed his fur. This would make him feel a whole lot better about the fiasco Frost had made of his holiday in '68. The kid had apologized, but somehow it never rang as genuine.

 

The slight figure touched down on the ground, posture alert and wary. A gleam of moonlight showed a furrowed brow, while silvered blue eyes searched the darkened corners; thin fingers tapped on the staff in nervous movements.

 

“Oy, mate,” the Pooka purred, grin widening as the ice sprite twitched and turned, that cold stare focusing on him.

 

The posture relaxed minutely. “Hey, Bunny.”

 

“Got a bone to pick with ya, boyo. North wants a chat, as well.” He hid a frown as the young spirit nodded absently, the icy gaze sliding away from him to delve into the shadows.

 

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” the ice sprite murmured.

 

“Your future. Though, it's your past we should be more worried about.”

 

“Ah, you aren't still mad, are ya Bunny?” The cocky grin tossed in his direction had him clenching his paws into fists.

 

“Yes,” he bit out. “There's a thing called common courtesy, mate. You should learn what it means.” With a vicious grin, he gave a nod and the two Yeti who'd accompanied him pounced, engulfing the slight figure in the red velvet bag, earning a startled yelp from Frost.

 

The large creature on the right tossed one of North's snowglobes to open the portal. It gave Bunny a questioning look.

 

“I'm headin' back me own way. See you back at the Pole.” He tapped a paw on the ground, opening one of his tunnels, and hopped in.

 

888

 

It took split-second timing, and still might not have worked if the Yeti had kept hold of the sack containing his prize. An instant before it would pass through the portal, Pitch Black snagged the bag from the air and disappeared into a nearby shadow, relishing the anguished cries of the Yeti. With the Easter Bunny already gone, it would take time before anyone could chase after him. Time he planned to put to good use.

 

Reappearing back at his lair, the Boogeyman tossed the sack onto the stone floor, earning a grunt of displeasure from the occupant. The magical properties of North's toy sacks kept Frost's powers at bay, but only for a short while. Pitch could already feel a bitter cold emanate from the cloth and knew it would only be a matter of time before the spirit escaped.

 

'Can't have that just yet.' Using his Fear-induced Shadow abilities, he transformed into the shape of the Easter Bunny, and with his large feet began kicking the sack, pummeling the figure within. “North was right,” he drawled in a passable imitation of the Australian Pooka. “Yer too unpredictable. Well, no matter. We'll soon put you in your place.”

 

Frost never spoke a word as he tried to claw his way out of the sack. Pitch grinned at the boy's grit. One last sharp kick soon rendered the snow child unconscious.

 

888

 

Bunnymund felt the the smirk fall from his lips as he arrived back to North's Workshop to find pandemonium. Elves ran about in a panic, smacking into one another more often than not, while the two Yeti who'd accompanied him stood off to one side, arguing loudly with one another, their long arms swinging wildly. St. North strode back and forth in front of the Globe, a dark expression on his normally jolly face.

 

“Oy, what's wrong, mate?”

 

He flinched at the scowl directed at him. “Frost did not come through portal.”

 

Bunnymund cast a quizzical look at the two Yeti, surprised when they averted their eyes in shame. “What happened to him? He was in the sack, the portal was open, and those two shoulda had no worries in getting him here.”

 

“Pitch grabbed him and disappeared into the shadows with him.”

 

Gaping, the Easter Bunny nearly fell to the floor in his shock. “Where would Pitch take him?”

 

North glared at the Globe, openly upset. “I know not. Pitch does not stay in one place for long. I do not know where he might currently reside.”

 

“How about old haunts?”

 

“Pitch knows I'm aware of them, there would be no guarantee that Frost would be there.”

 

“Maybe, but it would give us a starting point at least.” Bunny turned to kick the wall in his frustration. “There's no tellin' what Pitch will do to the little blighter.” Guilt clenched his gut, knowing that Frost's current predicament was partially his fault. He winced, remembering the cautious way Frost looked even after he recognized the Pooka. Could the winter spirit have felt Pitch's presence?

 

“Come,” the former Cossack ran a hand down his face. “We must inform the others. Perhaps they can be of assistance in locating Frost.”

 

888

 

Pitch open-ended the sack, dumping the contents carelessly on the floor of a cell within his lair. The wooden staff clattered to the stones and Pitch kicked it out into the middle of the cavern. It wouldn't do for Frost to have access to his powers before the game could properly begin. The increased temperature of the cell, being bereft of his power source, and the belief that the Guardians hated him should be enough to turn the boy to his side when Pitch arrived to 'rescue' the snow child from his fate.

 

Frost's limp body landed with a dull thump. With the toe of his foot, Pitch rolled Jack onto his back, his gaze drifting over the injured spirit. Bruises bloomed, turning pale flesh into a patchwork of vivid purplish blacks and greens. Dark blood oozed sluggishly from a split lip and a cut near the hairline. One hand lay at an awkward angle, the wrist broken.

 

Thin lips twisted in annoyance at the wheezing breath. “Humn. I may have kicked a tad too hard.” Pitch shrugged and crouched over the prone figure, his fingers dancing as he sprinkled black sand over the spirit's head.

 

The instant the nightmare began, Pitched focused his concentration on directing the dream. He wanted to widen the rift between Jack Frost and the Guardians to the point where the boy would have nothing to do with them.

 

888

 

_Jack Frost stared in icy silence at the two Guardians. North, the Spirit of Christmas, stood to one side, arms crossed with his “Naughty” and “Nice” tattoos prominently displayed. “You are reckless and arrogant, Jack Frost.”_

 

_With a painful wrench to his arm and shoulder, Bunnymund threw the young Spirit of Winter into the uncomfortably warm cell, causing Jack to stumble and fall, banging his knee in the process. The Spirit of Easter stalked closer to the boy, yanking him to his feet with a cruel grip on his hair. “You have no respect for other people's holiday's, mate,” he sneered. A harsh backhand sent Jack slamming into the stone wall. “No regard for what you destroy and ruin.”_

 

“ _We were right to not associate with you, Frost.” North's blue eyes flashed fiercely in his anger. “Much mischief you have done. You are not a good being.” His expression turned grave and severe. “You've killed thousands with your cold and ice. Injured many many more. Your pranks caused insurmountable damage and heartache amongst the very children we Guardians are sworn to protect.”_

 

_A furred fist drove into his stomach; it stole his breath and kept him from mounting any kind of defense, either physical or verbal. Not that he thought they would listen to him, no matter what he might have to say._

 

“ _We aren't willin' ta let ya wander about willy nilly anymore, mate.” Another punch sent the Spirit of Winter to collapse on the stones. “Here we have you and here you'll stay until we decide otherwise.”_

 

_Jack pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, bitterness and a growing sense of fear curling in his belly. The terror of being confined warred with the numbness that threatened to swallow him. They'd known of his solitude and done nothing? Some Guardians they turned out to be._

 

“ _Nothin' ta say?” the Pooka taunted. “Ah, well, yer not worth the time ta talk ta anyway.” He pulled back his foot and let it fly toward the spirit's head._

 

_Unable to dodge quick enough, Jack let out a pained yelp as the kick connected, sending him down into oblivion._

 

888

 

Pitch Black reclined on his haunches, a genuine smile upon his face at the bitterness and resentment that flowed from the snow child as his nightmare ran its course. 'That should keep the boy from trusting those two any time soon.'

 

He brushed his hand through the boy's hair, almost fondly. “I think I'll let you stew for a bit. That way, it will be all the more enjoyable when you join me for 'rescuing' you.”

 

Pulling the bars down to seal the cell, Pitch hoisted the crooked staff to lean against his shoulder, silently marveling at how light and fragile it seemed. “Doesn't seem like much. Neither do you. But I suppose appearances can be deceiving. I can use that.”

 

He sauntered out of the cavern, pleased with his plan. As he cackled to himself he failed to notice a pair of silvered blue eyes follow his movements.

 

888

 

Sanderson Mansnoozie frowned. Pitch Black's powers were growing. Children around the world suffered from nightmares and he found himself having to revisit several towns in order to soothe those afflicted with Pitch's minions.

 

Standing on a cloud of dream sand above one such town, the Sandman spread his arms wide sending ribbons of sand flowing as fast as he could toward the sleepers. It angered him that Pitch had perverted his sands in such a manner. Sadness also washed through him with the knowledge that many children would suffer tonight before he could get to them.

 

He flinched as a particularly malevolent nightmare flared into being. This one, unlike the others, felt carefully controlled. Who might the Boogeyman deem 'worthy' of a personal visit?

 

The gentle man bit his bottom lip as tears welled. Until he finished here he couldn't investigate the disturbance, himself. With desperate hope, he sent a tendril of dream sand in that direction, hoping it would reach the individual in time to soften the biting edge of the nightmare. The sleeper felt far away; the Sandman didn't think his sand would make it in time.

 

888

 

For long moments, Jack played possum, trying not to squirm from the overheated air that lay upon him like a lead weight on his chest.

 

He sensed the air currents for sign of anyone nearby. No movement. Satisfied he was alone, he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings.

 

No light illuminated the area, but Jack didn't need light to see. He never had, though he preferred how the world looked through moonlight.

 

Unrelieved stone surrounded him; the small five by eight foot cell carved directly from the rock. Bars lined one side from floor to ceiling. From his position, he couldn't see a way to open them.

 

Pursing his lips, he whistled, calling, and listened to the echoes. The cavern on the other side of the bars felt large, and he thought he detected a tunnel down at one end.

 

A beat, two, then a slight smile crossed his face as a soft breeze ruffled his snow white hair.

 

The Wind didn't speak. Not in words, anyway. Nonetheless, the Winter Child understood the Wind's agitation over the situation. It rubbed against his cheek in apology for failing to protect him.

 

Jack raised his hand, carding his fingers through the breeze as if petting it. “It's okay. It's not your fault. We were both caught off-guard.” His own voice drifted soft as snow on the air. “I knew Bunnymund still held a grudge over that Easter in '68, I just never expected him to ambush me like that.”

 

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he swallowed thickly as the room spun dizzily. He spat blood from a split lip and quelled the nausea with careful breaths. Steadier, he took stock of his injuries. One eye had swollen shut and he probed at the cut above it, glad that the bleeding had stopped. He could feel bruises that peppered his arms, torso, back, sides and legs where savage kicks had landed. A couple of ribs on his left side ached abominably, possibly cracked, and his right wrist had broken.

 

“Do you think you can find my staff?”

 

The Wind ruffled his hair again, this time in agreement, and slid out of the cavern and down the tunnel.

 

Jack shuddered as the cell felt even hotter without the cooling breeze. The heat sapped his strength and made it hard to think.

 

With a grim demeanor, the Winter Child sat up, grasped his right hand with his left and yanked hard, realigning the broken bones. This wasn't the first time he'd been injured. Not even injured by other spirits. Many had highly protective attitudes regarding their realm of influence and guarded them jealously, even viciously. He still carried a silvered scar on his left shoulder blade where Samhain had struck him with a jack 'o lantern over two hundred years ago.

 

Scooting closer to the bars, he examined them. Metal. A frown crossed his face like a shadow. With his staff, he could easily freeze the bars until they became brittle and shattered with a single blow.

 

He flexed his left hand, smiling coldly at the coat of frost. His staff allowed him greater control over his powers, let him direct them outwardly. It was not the source of his power, though. Several spirits had made that mistake in the past, and each had quickly learned that Jack was not to be underestimated.

 

Waiting for the Wind, Jack leaned against the bars in consideration over the nightmare he'd experienced.

 

The Winter Child seldom slept; he didn't need to like some spirits did. There was plenty of work to do as many places around the world remained cold year long, and he did his best work at night, leaving the day for snowball fights and sledding with the children.

 

When he did sleep, he seldom dreamed. In three hundred years, Sanderson had only visited him, albeit remotely, a dozen handful of times. Jack either slept dreamlessly or was plagued with nightmares. Alone save for the Wind, was it any wonder that the he craved attention? Over time, he learned to savor the nightmares as avidly as any “sweet” dream sent by the Sandman. Sometimes, even negative attention was preferable to being ignored; he was quite familiar with the mental flavor of Pitch Black's presence.

 

Despite Pitch Black's intention, the nightmare didn't particularly bother the Winter Child. He already knew that the Guardians, and in conjunction other spirits, didn't have much use for him. Winter storms were frequently destructive by their very nature; though the beings, particularly North and Bunnymund probably never realized their chastisement, neglect, and dismissals caused the more severe blizzards and bitter bone-numbing cold snaps. His powers were emotion based, after all. He knew, also, that his light-hearted attitude tended to rub the wrong way. He liked to have fun and appeared to ignore or make light of the more serious consequences of his abilities. He didn't, but if no one actually took the time to speak with him, how would they know?

 

Jack had to hand it to Pitch; the Nightmare King had done a masterful job with the nightmare he'd given Jack. Despite how real it felt, though, a few inconsistencies had kept him from falling for Pitch's trick. To start with, he had crossed paths with Bunnymund a few times in the past forty years; if the Easter spirit had planned to take his revenge on Jack for the Blizzard of '68, it would have been then, not after so much time had passed. Bunny held grudges, but the beating in the dream was uncharacteristic of the Guardian of Hope. Two, Nicholas St. North might hold himself in judgment over other spirits, but he would never allow torture; which, for all intents and purposes, was what the beating and confinement would result in a nature spirit. Finally, and more tellingly, none of the 'remembered' injuries correlated with his real ones.

 

“Sloppy, Pitch. Very sloppy,” he murmured. “Though it does make me wonder what you hoped this would ultimately accomplish.” If the Boogeyman wanted Jack on his side, this was not the way to have gone about things. Young when compared to the other nature spirits, the Winter Child was not stupid. He had centuries of relying only upon himself and the Wind. Though often lonely, he would not allow himself to be used for someone else's pleasure.

 

The Wind returned, soothing him with its chill embrace and he sighed in relief, perking up somewhat as his body cooled marginally. Through light touches and gentle tugs the Wind passed on its findings. Jack's staff lay near the entrance to the lair, but the Wind didn't have enough strength to bring it to him in the oppressive atmosphere of Pitch's lair.

 

“Okay. Then, I'll have to go to it.”

 

He cocked his head in thought, letting a small, devilish grin tug on his lips imagining Pitch's expression as he touched the bars, giving them a slick layer of ice.

 

Ten painful minutes later, the Winter Child gingerly rose to his feet on the other side of the bars. Any who saw him at this time would draw back in horror at his cadaverous form; forgetting that Winter and Famine at times walked hand in hand.

 

He limped across the cavern and through the tunnel, one hand along the wall to steady himself.

 

The tunnel wound through several empty caverns and off-shoots. Without the Wind's guidance, Jack feared he would have become hopelessly lost within the underground labyrinth. Bones lined some of the walls, the area part of an abandoned catacomb. His eyes lingered over the smaller skeletons of children, some older than even he.

 

A frown creased his brow as he came across something other than stone and bone. This cavern seemed filled with what looked like empty bird cages. They hung in tiers from the ceiling and swung gently back and forth on their long chains. He pursed his lips in pensive thought and continued past, sliding around the menacing things. Each had an oil-slick like aura about them and the idea of accidentally touching one made his skin crawl. He heaved a sigh of relief when he reached the tunnel that led out of the area.

 

Time passed slowly as he continued along the path the Wind chose for him. A faint flutter of panic had lodged in his breast as he realized just to what extent Pitch had gone to ensure no one found him. He shuddered at the thought of being entombed and hastened his steps at the Wind's assurance that the entrance was near.

 

Silvered blue eyes cautiously studied the last cavern. Wan beams of pale light came in from a hole near the apex of the cavern. He breathed deeply, feeling the knot loosen at the fresher air that blew in. He could fly out easily, if he could find his staff.

 

The Wind tugged at his clothes, stronger in the larger space, bringing him to where his crooked staff lay propped against the stone. Jack blinked in astonishment, feeling that the Boogeyman should have used some type of precaution with the artifact, then realized the Nightmare King never thought Jack would escape the cell.

 

The wood grain felt comforting under his hand, the staff directing his power toward the worst of his bruises and diminishing them with the cold. Ice crept over the cuts, sealing them. More ice appeared around his wrist, supporting the injured joint until his body could finish the healing process.

 

He smiled, feeling himself relax for the first time since spotting the black blur that he now recognized as one of Pitch's fearlings. “Take me home?” he whispered.

 

Joyfully, the Wind complied, wrapping itself around him and lifting him out of the lair.

 

888

 

The Sandman grimly followed the path of the sand ribbon he sent out earlier. He could tell that the ribbon never made it to its destination. As he'd feared, the child had woken before the dream could arrive and since he hadn't recalled it immediately, the dream remained in place waiting for direction.

 

He had a vague, general idea of which direction the nightmare had emanated, but the trail was gone. Now what?

 

The familiar sound of North's sleigh broke into his musings and he watched with a raised brow as the Guardian of Wonder pulled up beside him. He noticed that Bunnymund sat within the sleigh, as well; a rare sight as the Rabbit detested flying in any form, preferring to travel via his tunnels.

 

“Sandy!” North's uncharacteristically grim tone sent a shudder down his spine. “Trouble and calamity, my friend. Pitch has kidnapped Jack Frost.”

 

With a terrible sense of foreboding, the Sandman lay his hands on the dream ribbon that pulsed before him. It made a horrific kind of sense that he would note Pitch's direct involvement in a nightmare, only to learn that the Boogeyman had their newest Guardian in his clutches.

 

His eyes closed in pain. What horrible things did the Nightmare King force the young winter child to endure? What memories had been twisted? Could anything be done to rectify or mitigate the damage?

 

Golden eyes snapped open and grim determination settled across his form like a cloak. As concisely as he could, he conveyed what he hypothesized to the others.

 

“Can your sand still find the place since the sprite's not sleeping anymore?” Bunnymund asked uncertainly, toying with one of his boomerangs.

 

Sanderson shrugged, but transformed his golden sand into a biplane and motioning for them to follow him. All he could do was try.

 

888

 

Toothiana slipped out of a child's bedroom after securing the upper left incisor in her pouch. The happy memories contained in that particular tooth thrummed with energy and she gave a soft giggle in delight.

 

She loved her job. Keeping childhood memories safe wasn't easy, and without her fairies the task would be nigh on impossible due to the number of children in the world who lost teeth every day, but the satisfaction and sheer joy she got from a job well done was worth it.

 

A cool breeze wafted over her, causing her to shiver and amethyst colored eyes automatically searched the sky as she perched on the outer window sill.

 

North had urged for both she and Sandy to go on their nightly rounds. “It might take some time to locate Jack Frost. He is elusive and does not really have a set pattern to his movements.”

 

“We're gonna have ta do some investigating before we find him,” Bunny added. “There's no real telling how long that might take.”

 

Neither felt particularly comfortable with the “prank” Bunny planned to pull on Jack, but had to admit the necessity of leaving the initial search to the others; the teeth wouldn't collect themselves, and with Pitch active, Sandy's sweet dreams would be needed more than ever.

 

“We will contact you once we've brought him to Pole,” North assured. “And, if by chance you find him first, then you can extend invitation yourself. In meantime, we shouldn't disappoint the children.”

 

The breeze turned even colder. She thought she detected a presence nearby and she tilted her head in consideration. “Jack Frost?” she called softly, aware of the sleeping child in the room behind her. “Are you there?”

 

The air stilled for a split second, then an equally soft voice responded. “Who wants to know?”

 

She blinked, a bit startled by the question, as well as the defensive tone . “I'm Toothiana.” She craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of the winter spirit, but he stayed hidden from her sight.

 

“I know. You're the Tooth Fairy. I've seen you and your fairies out and about.”

 

She blinked again, “You have?”

 

She heard a noncommittal hum. “Collected Jaime's tooth, yet?”

 

An uninhibited smile graced her face as she cooed. “It's the cutest incisor. And the energy...” she sighed happily.

 

Another breeze blew by her, the coldest one yet, as Jack Frost floated toward her from around the corner of the house and Toothiana gave a third blink as she finally gazed upon Jack's slight form in person.

 

The smile slid from her face and she couldn't suppress the gasp of dismay when she saw the colorful bruises that marred pale skin. He held himself gingerly, as if his ribs pained him, and she caught the gleam of ice protectively surrounding a blackened wrist. “Oh!”

 

“Energy?” Jack cocked his head at her as if he hadn't heard her cry, though she noted the wariness in his uninjured blue eye. He kept his distance, hand grasped tight enough around his staff that the knuckles had turned blue, but the curiosity was genuine.

 

Her hands rose from her lap to flutter helplessly before her. Oh, how she wanted to sooth the young spirit before her. To gather him close and take care of him. Jack's posture, however, warned her that the slightest wrong move would cause him to scurry off.

 

Swallowing her heartache, she responded to his curiosity, hoping to set him at ease. “Baby teeth hold childhood memories. This one … well, this one stored a very special, happy memory just before falling out. So the energy within is more potent. Especially as it's one the child will treasure.”

 

The solemn expression upon the spirit's face cracked and a smile full of wonder broke across his face. Jack's gaze darted toward the window, a mixture of emotions playing within “Really? Jaime really liked what happened that much?”

 

“Do you know what the memory is about?” She'd leaned forward, fascinated by the gleam of snow white teeth that peaked out of the smile.

 

“Don't you already know?” He glanced down at her gathering pouch, a touch of confusion on his face.

 

“Oh. No, I don't automatically know what memories are stored unless I specifically look. And I only do that when someone needs to be reminded of something.” She bobbed her head. A person's memories were usually a private thing, and she tried to respect that privacy. “I just keep them safe and make them available when someone needs them.” Her response was practically on autopilot; it wasn't the first time someone had asked her about the teeth, but her mind kept straying over the possible causes of the winter spirit's injuries

 

Unlike injuries caused in a fall or from rough housing, the placement and patterns of bruises looked like a beating. Her blood ran cold at the thought of someone deliberately harming the fragile spirit.

 

“You … give out memories?”

 

The odd tone sent mental alarms blaring. “Yes.” She drew the word out, questioningly.

 

“Do … do you ...” a thin hand flexed rhythmically around his staff in nervousness and trepidation. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I don't remember anything from before I became Jack Frost. And somehow I'm positive that there should be something. Do you think you might have my memories?”

 

The confession rocked her back. She'd never heard of a spirit that didn't remember some of who or what they'd been before. How was that possible? “You don't have...” her horrified whisper trailed off at his stricken expression and she straightened her spine, smiling softly. “We can check.”

 

He looked so sad and lost. Toothiana couldn't stop herself from reaching out to caress his cheek with one hand. She caught the flinch, though he tried to suppress it “Oh, Jack. What happened to you?” her voice drifted quietly between them. She wanted to know – to help – but would respect his decision if he chose not to tell her.

 

He backed away out of arm's reach and she let her hand fall into her lap giving him his space.

 

“Why are the Guardians looking for me?”

 

The question caught her off guard. “The Man in the Moon told us you are to be a new Guardian. Didn't Bunny or North find you and explain?” She would have thought one of them would have caught up to the elusive ice spirit by now.

 

“The Man in the Moon talks to you?” She couldn't decipher the look in his eye as he stared upward at the waxing crescent. “He's never spoken to me.”

 

“Never?”

 

“He told me my name, but nothing else, no matter how often I asked.”

 

Her heart broke at the mournful statement and stiffened her resolve even further. “C'mon. Let's get to my palace and find your teeth.”

 

888

 

Pitch Black danced from shadow to shadow, his fearlings dogging his heels. The second part of his plan required a bit of travel. With Frost safely tucked away, Pitch turned his attention toward the Tooth Fairy's Palace.

 

Though the Guardian of Memories would be out on her rounds, leaving her Palace relatively unprotected, he had to hurry. His fearlings were more powerful at night and the sun would rise in a few short hours.

 

An evil grin crossed his face as the brightly colored spires came into view.

 

With a gesture, he sent his fearlings toward the unsuspecting fairies. “Capture every fairy, my dears. And make sure you collect every box of childhood memories. With those, we can ensure that each child gets a special dream all of their own.” His chuckle echoed over the alarmed shrieks of the tooth fairies as the fearlings descended upon them like a dark wave.

 

Confident in his minions' abilities, he only watched for a moment, savoring the fear from the tiny creatures before melting back into the shadows with the first group of fearlings and their dreadful cargo.

 

888

 

Almost at the Tooth Fairy's Palace, Toothiana gave a cry, pulling sharply to a halt in mid-air, her wings twitching in agitation.

 

“What's wrong?” Jack Frost eyed the feathered Guardian with a hint of trepidation, wondering if this had all been a trick of some sort. The genuine distress that filled her expressive face caused some of his wariness of her to fade.

 

She glanced over at him, wringing her hands. “Oh! My fairies! Something's happening to my fairies! They're so scared!” She took off like a shot, her desperation pouring off her in waves.

 

Calling on the Wind for help, Jack lent speed to the frantic Guardian's flight.

 

The closer they flew, the more distressed the winged being sounded. “No. No. Not my fairies. Not the teeth.”

 

They crested a hill. Below them, gleaming in the moonlight, stood The Tooth Fairy's Palace in all it's bright splendor. However, dark, oily looking cloud-like creatures darted around the building, chasing tiny blue, green, and gold feathered fairies, engulfing the frightened creatures and darting away into shadows with their prize.

 

With a sharp, bird-like shriek, Toothiana dived at the nearest cloud, her wings slicing through the shape like a razor, causing it to explode in a rain of black sand, freeing the fairy held within.

 

Jack Frost felt the air around him crystallize in his anger. In his eyes, Toothiana's fairies fell in the same category as the world's children: small and generally helpless against those larger or more powerful. He'd befriended a few over the years, sometimes helping them out when a feline got overly curious, or causing a distraction when a child woke before the fairy could disappear with a tooth. How dare Pitch go after them?

 

Jack felt his mouth stretch in a death head's grin that pulled on his split lip as he froze one fearling after another in place with his ice. Passing them, he gave them an almost contemptuous tap with his staff, causing them to explode. A few fairies flew out of the black sand. Most darted toward their mother, but one chose to hide in the pocket of his hoodie, instead.

 

The two enraged beings made a sizable dent in the fearlings' number, but in the end, there were simply too many to deal with them all. The fearlings vanished after taking all the memory containers. Not a single tiny fairy could be seen.

 

Toothiana knelt on an upper platform keening; her arms wrapped around her in anguish.

 

Jack hovered uncertainly, not sure what to do. Cautiously, he landed beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

 

With a quick motion, she turned and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her tears hot against his cold skin. He froze, panicked, then awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, patting her on the back while she sobbed.

 

A startled squeak had them pull apart, and a tiny fairy crawled out of Jack's pocket to snuggle against its mother's cheek.

 

“Oh, Jack. You saved one.” She gave a tearful smile and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” Cradling the baby tooth fairy in one hand, she gently caressed its head feathers with one finger.

  
He couldn't stand the desolate look in her eyes. “Hey. We'll get them back. Don't worry.”

 

“How? Pitch could have taken them anywhere.”

 

He paused, absently poking at his split lip with the tip of his tongue. “I think I have a good idea where they could be. C'mon.” He left no room for argument as he tugged her up into the air.

 

888

 


	2. A Few Hard Truths / Gathering Together / The Fight

 

Pitch Black slammed the last cage shut and sneered at the captive tooth fairies. “Children all over the world will soon wake up to find that the Tooth Fairy didn't come to visit. They'll stop believing, soon enough.” He conjured a nightmare, caressing the beast's powerful neck. “And without happy childhood memories to sustain them, the world will fall into fear and despair.” The nightmare pranced around the room, deliberately knocking into cages, sending them swinging and banging into one another. The fairies shrieked in pain and panic. A wide smile crossed his face. “Music to my ears.”

 

He gazed toward the tunnel that led further into the catacombs to Jack's cell. He so desperately wanted to look in on the snow child. See for himself how Frost reacted to his imprisonment. Was he in tears? Stoic? Maddened? He held himself back. “Patience, Pitch. Patience. Time will sweeten his despair and make the end results that much more satisfactory.”

 

With one last fond look at his nightmare, he left his lair. Crossing the empty field, he idly created an arrow out of black sand and twirled it between his fingers. “Now, my dear Sandman. Let's see if we can take care of you, as well.”

 

888

 

It was impossible to guess who felt more surprise, Pitch or the three Guardians, when the four beings confronted one another only a few miles away from the Nightmare King's current lair.

 

“Pitch!” St. North boomed, reigning the sleigh to a halt and vaulting out with brandished sword. “Release Jack Frost at once!”

 

The Easter Bunny stood beside him, his boomerangs ready to throw and his whiskers quivering in anger.

 

Sanderson Mansnoozie dispelled his biplane and manifested two golden whips, his expression severe as he watched the Boogeyman with hard eyes.

 

“That nuisance? What do you care about what happens to a minor winter spirit?” Pitch widened his eyes comically, affecting a shocked look. “Oh. But he's to become a Guardian, isn't he? That makes all the difference in the world.” He grinned cruelly at the chagrined looks exchanged. “Three hundred years you've shunned and snubbed him. Do you really think he'll join you just because the Man in the Moon finally deemed him 'worthy?” He spat the last out like a curse.

 

Bunnymund bristled at the insult, “What would you know about it, mate?”

 

“Humn, let me think,” Pitch tapped a long finger against his bottom lip in mock thought. “Just what would I know about being alone? Ignored? Hated for acting upon my very nature? Not believed in, even though my name is invoked?” He cast a withering glare at them all. “You're right. I couldn't possibly have the slightest clue.”

 

“Enough!” North's voice had dropped to an ominous growl. “Where is Frost?”

 

Pitch backed away, an insolent grin upon his face. “Safe enough. Out of your reach, at any event. And if you destroy me, you'll never find him. I can guarantee that he won't survive overly long where he's being held. It's the heat, you know.” He chuckled at the aghast looks. “Guess you could say the snow child is my little insurance police against your 'good behavior'.”

 

His laughter increased at the helpless rage playing upon their faces. “It won't take long to turn him to my side, you know. A few more nightmares tailored just for him, along with the heat, and well...” He splayed his hands out in a 'there you have it' gesture. “I'll sweep in to the rescue. He'll be so grateful.”

 

He continued over their spluttering. “What? Does the truth hurt? You only have yourselves to blame. He already knows that you don't care much for him.” He locked gazes with a furious Sandman. “I have you to thank especially, Sanderson. Over the years, Frost has had more contact with me via nightmares than any other spirit in the world. Perhaps if you hadn't ignored him so often that would not have been the case.”

 

An angry looking dream cloud and then a question mark appeared over Sanderson's head.

 

“How?” Gray eyes widened in sudden realization and the Boogeyman bent double in gales of raucous laughter that careened through the air, causing the others to cringe. “Some Guardians you turned out to be. Protectors of children? Bah!” he spat. “How can you even consider claiming that title when you ignore one of your own? Frost may be a spirit, but he is still just a child. A neglected, abused child, at that. One you should have taken under your wing to guide and console. Instead, you did all you could to push him away.”

 

Another bone chilling cackle echoed in the air as they stood gobsmacked by the revelation. Pitch snapped his fingers, summoning a few of his fearlings to distract the Guardians long enough to get away. He needed a bit more time before he was strong enough to rid the world of the Sandman. Then, no one would be able to stop him.

 

888

 

Nicholas St. North sliced the last fearling in twain, his expression a combination of profound sadness and anger as the black sand pattered to the ground. “Damn the man! He slips away like one of his shadows!”

 

“Calm down, mate,” Bunnymund advised, his own expression still somewhat shell shocked. “We'll catch him. Don't you worry about that.”

 

North viciously kicked at a pile of sand. “Yes, but how do we find him?”

 

A moonbeam brightened, drawing their attention, glinting off a bit of ice that clung tenaciously to the edge of a pond, defying the gradually warming weather as spring approached.

 

With a huff, North nodded. “Aye. We find Jack Frost and we find Pitch. But, we need Pitch in order to find Frost. Circular logic will not help, Manny,” the ex-Cossack groused.

 

A shadow formed within the beam; the silhouette of a tooth.

 

“Toothiana?” His belly clenched with a growing sense of dread. “Have either of you heard from her tonight?”

 

Sanderson shook his head, face troubled.

 

“We should check up on her,” Bunnymund suggested, shifting on his feet, ears laid back against his skull.

 

The Sandman nodded his agreement, but sent an arrow in their original direction with a questioning look.

 

Pursing his lips, North came to a decision. “Sandy, you follow the dream trail as far as you can. See if perhaps you can locate Frost and rescue him. Bunny and I will find Toothiana.” He jumped into his sleigh grabbing the reigns. “We need to hurry. I feel time is short.

 

The three Guardians split up, North tossing out another snow globe to the Tooth Fairy's Palace while Sanderson prodded the dream ribbon.

 

888

 

Toothiana felt belief in her fade as dawn rose and children discovered their teeth still under their pillows. She sank lower and lower toward the ground as her wings refused to hold her weight. Only Jack's Wind allowed her to land more or less gently rather than crashing.

 

Folded over her knees, she could barely make out Jack's concerned face through her tears.

 

He crouched down beside her. “Toothiana?”

 

“Give me a minute.” She took a deep breath to calm the panic welling in her breast as she felt herself weaken.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“Children are losing their belief in me.”

 

“That weakens you?” The tone sounded disbelieving and the youthful face looked confused and mildly horrified.

 

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of a wrist. “As a Guardian, I need a certain level of belief or...”

 

“Or?” the tone had hardened slightly.

 

She shrugged a bit helplessly. “I could cease to exist.” She spotted a frown flit across the winter spirit's face, but before she could question him Jack shook his head and helped her to her feet, brushing a few tears from her face. She could feel the water freeze at his touch and the solid droplets land in the grass beside her with a soft rustle.

 

“So, we need to free your fairies so they can continue their job and allow children to believe in you?”

 

“And get back the teeth. The longer they're in Pitch Black's possession, the worse things will get. He can start making the children believe, or disbelieve, in anything he wants if he can get them open.”

 

A huff of icy breath caressed her cheek before he stepped away, leaving her to stand on her own. “Okay. So, we need to get to Pitch Black's lair, free the baby tooth fairies, and recover the teeth.” Silvered blue eyes darted around, searching their surroundings. He made a small noise of triumph and began digging into the leaf litter beneath a tree. He pulled out a large segment of bark with a delighted grin.

 

“What are you going to do with that?”

 

He set it down in front of her. “You can't fly and I can't carry you. But if you sit in this I can ice a path and we can use it as a sled to move quicker.”

 

She blinked, studying the crude craft. It had been ages since she had last gone sledding.

 

The tiny fairy Jack had saved trilled excitedly and perched on one end of the bark sled, giving her an expectant look. She grinned. “Let's go!”

 

888

 

Seated on the back of a large nightmare, Pitch Black studied the small town from a nearby hill, a cold smile upon his lips. The Sandman had already visited this particular hamlet and several children slept peacefully with golden sand images dancing over their heads. “Not for long, though. And soon, very soon, not at all.”

 

He slithered into the bedroom of a small boy and reached down to lift the cavorting form of a playful puppy onto one gray palm. He studied it with a critical eye.

 

It had taken him years to learn how to produce his own black sand from the Sandman's dreams, but he'd finally figured the trick of it. “It just needs a touch of fear.” With a touch of his finger the gold darkened and the puppy transformed into a large, growling brute of a dog that snarled and slavered, foam dripping from its snapping jowls.

 

The little boy's face contorted with fear and a pitiful whimper emanated from his throat as the rabid dog chased him through his dreams gaining upon him as he ran desperately through an empty house.

 

Just as the nightmare dog's teeth pierced tender flesh, the boy woke with a scream. “MOMMY!”

 

For the briefest of instants, wide startled, panic-filled green eyes locked onto dull yellow eyes that held a pinprick of red light in the center of the pupils. Another wail and the boy scurried out of his bed, slamming through the door and dashing down the hallway.

 

Pitch threw his head back, his laughter chasing after the child.

 

888

 

Sanderson Mansnoozie tapped his foot in unconscious annoyance as the dream ribbon slid down a hole in the ground too tiny for him to follow. Gold colored eyes flickered around looking for another entrance that he could fit through. The scowl upon his face deepened as nothing stood out.

 

He huffed at the thought; of course it wouldn't stand out. Pitch wouldn't want anyone to be able to just stumble across his lair, so the entrance would be well hidden. But where?

 

His thoughts drifted to Jack Frost. He hoped he found the young spirit soon.

 

888

 

Jack Frost formed an ice slide for the bark sled to travel along, using the natural dips and rises in the ground to give the sled some speed.

 

Though the situation was serious, he couldn't help the grin upon his face when a particular dip or turn sent Toothiana and Baby Tooth into gasps and giggles of pleasure.

 

Though his powers caused damage more often than not, he found he took more enjoyment in bringing delight and fun when he could. It helped make up for the times when all he could bring was sorrow.

 

Recognizing his surroundings, Jack brought the sled to a gentle halt. “It's close. We're going to need to walk the rest of the way.” He held a hand out to her, helping Toothiana out of the sled, marveling at the warmth that emanated from her. He backed away a few steps as she unconsciously shivered, then blinked in surprise as the little tooth fairy flew to perch on his shoulder, seemingly unaffected by the cold. He stroked a careful finger across her head and down her back. “You okay there, Baby Tooth?”

 

The tiny creature nodded, beamed up at him, and ducked down into the hood portion of his sweater. He shrugged, letting her be.

 

“Jack?” Toothiana sounded hesitant. “How do you know where Pitch's lair is?”

 

Jack drew in a breath to answer when he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Gripping his staff, he leveled it in that direction, shifting so that he stood between Toothiana and the oncoming threat.

 

“Jack?”

 

“Shhh,” he commanded, ice blue eyes narrowed as he watched the bend and sway of the tree branches. “Something's coming.”

 

Toothina grabbed a nearby branch, her own fingers turning white with the tight grip.

 

Another tree limb moved, and a gleam of gold glinted among the leaves.

 

Jack startled, as with a squeal Toothiana dropped her branch and threw herself toward the figure. “Sandy!”

 

Jack huffed a breath in frustration, shaking her head as the Tooth Fairy blithely ignored her surroundings to babble to the Sandman everything that had occurred. “You might want to loosen your grip, Toothiana. If Pitch is around, we'll need our wits about us.”

 

She jumped away as if scalded, amethyst eyes wide in trepidation, “Oh!”

 

Responding to her distress, Baby Tooth flew to her, nuzzling her cheek.

 

The Sandman stared at him with a pleased, yet puzzled smile upon his face. A series of images appeared above his head: Pitch, Jack himself, an angry looking dream cloud, then a question mark.

 

“Yes,” came a sibilant hiss. “I'd also like to know how you escaped.”

 

Jack aimed his staff at the Boogeyman, but had to hold off as both Toothiana and the Sandman were in the line of fire (or ice, as the case may be).

 

“Pitch Black.” Jack nodded respectfully at the older spirit, acknowledging the other's presence.

 

Dull coin yellow eyes widened momentarily, but the Nightmare King gave a nod in return. “Jack Frost.” A calculating look appeared in his eyes, quickly joined by a hint of resignation.”You weren't fooled, were you?”

 

Jack shook his head, ignoring the inquiring looks upon the other Guardian's faces.

 

“Damn.” Pitch turned, kicking at the ground like a frustrated child. He whirled back around, expression avid. “Where did I go wrong?”

 

A thin smile tugged at Jack's lips but he said nothing.

 

“Not even a hint?” Pitch wheedled. “C'mon, Jack. Help out a fellow artiste. If a thing is to be done it should be done properly.”

 

The smile widened minutely and Jack tipped his head in consideration. With a decisive bob, he decided to give one of the reasons the nightmare hadn't fooled him. “Bruises.”

 

Jack stifled a chuckle as Pitch cursed to himself as he caught the reference.

  
Sandman and the Tooth Fairy looked confused, their gazes bouncing between the two like watching a tennis match, though Sanderson's expression had turned grim as he noted the injuries marring the winter child's skin.

 

The curses wound down and Pitch studied the youthful spirit, with his lips pursed and hands on hips, the fingers tapping absently on the protruding bone. “Ruined my chances at having you on my side, didn't I?”

 

Jack nodded solemnly, ignoring the gasp from Toothiana. “We're a lot alike, Pitch Would you help someone who treated you similarly?”

 

A deep, heart-felt sigh drifted in the air. “No. I suppose not. Pity.”

 

The Boogeyman gestured and the sky darkened as fearlings began to swarm above them. “I'll give you a chance, Frost. I only want the Guardians. I've no quarrel with you. If you leave now, I'll spare you what is to come.”

 

Regretfully, Jack shook his head. “You may not have a quarrel with me, but I've one with you, now.”

 

Pitch nodded, “So be it.” A sharp whistle and the fearlings descended.

 

888

 

E. Aster Bunnymund hopped through the lower levels of the Tooth Fairy's Palace, a hard knot forming in his gut as he passed damaged walls and broken doors.

 

The room were Toothina kept the golden containers of children's teeth echoed mockingly at him. He dragged a toe through a pile of black sand that lay upon the floor tiles. “Why would Pitch want the teeth?”

 

“If he can open them, then Pitch Black would have access to all of a child's memories.” Nicholas St. North answered him from one of the upper levels, his voice reverberating through the rooms. “He could dredge up their worst fears in same manner that Toothiana pulls happy memories. All children would remember would be fear.”

 

“Can he open them?” He scattered the pile, scowling fiercely.

 

“Unsure. Would need cooperation of a fairy. Since he seems to have them all ...” he trailed off.

 

Bunnymand shuddered, shaking off the clinging grains of sand and continued to look around seeing more piles of sand. It was obvious that Toothiana and her fairies had put up a fight, but not a single container remained, and neither did any clue as to the fairies' whereabouts.

 

A moment later, he heard a noise of surprise from North. “Find anything, mate?”

 

“Perhaps. Come see.”

 

The Pooka climbed the spiraling staircases, absently wondering why the palace even had staircases when the occupants all flew. “What is it?”

 

North pointed toward something in a shadowed corner. Moving closer, Bunny could see what North had found. A black sand fearling lay trapped in ice; a perverse statue that glittered malevolently in the scant light. Relief filled him at this evidence that the ice sprite had not remained in Pitch's clutches. “Frost was here?”

 

“And very angry at fearlings.”

 

Sharp eyes pinpointed several other 'statues' as well as evidence where ice blasts had destroyed several fearlings around the Palace. “Good for him,” he murmured, kicking the frozen figure, causing it to shatter and disintegrate. “But where is he now?”

 

“Long gone, if the ice melt is anything to go by. But whether by his own volition, I know not.”

 

“I don't think we'll learn much more here. Now what?”

 

“Now, we return to Sandy. Now is time to stick closer together.” Once back at the sleigh, North pulled another snow globe. “To the Sandman.” He threw the globe causing a portal to form.

 

“What the...” Bunnymund trailed off as the opening of the portal seemed filled with shadows. Shrieks and wails pierced his sensitive ears causing him to snarl with the pain.

 

Once on the other side, the sleigh hovered over the dark cloud of fearlings and nightmares that circled three small figures in the center of a clearing. “Pitch Black!” North growled and leaped from the sleigh, swords brandished, to head into the fray.

 

Bunny had barely set foot on the ground before he had to throw himself to lay flat as an ice bolt blasted over his head. “Hey! Watch it!”

 

“You're the one who jumped in without announcing yourself,” came the cold reply as Jack Frost chased a few fearlings away from Toothiana.

 

North scooped the downed Tooth Fairy and ran for the sleigh to lay her on the bench, slicing the dark minions that stood in his way.

 

888

 

Sanderson stood on a swirling cloud of gold sand, duel whips dispersing Pitch's nightmares and fearlings with each flick of his wrist. The wave of monsters seemed never ending and for a moment Sanderson despaired at ever defeating Pitch.

 

A blast of icy wind knocked several fearlings out of the sky and the Sandman smiled, glad for Jack Frost's presence. The winter child had helped keep the two Guardians from being completely overwhelmed.

 

The injuries Frost sported worried him, but it had been Pitch's words that had nearly broken his heart. Had they really treated Jack so poorly that he'd have been willing to join the Nightmare King?

 

He mentally smacked himself in the head as something Pitch said earlier truly registered. Jack was a child. Yes, a spirit, but physically still a child.

 

It explained so much; the playful attitude, even the pranks that he now realized were a call for attention.

 

He had even felt the times when Jack summoned the dreams to the surface of the sand ribbons and play with them for a moment or two before letting them continue to their intended recipient. How could he have overlooked the significance of Jack's ability to interact with the dream ribbons he sent out to the children of the world? His dreams only reached children. How had he missed the fact that Jack was, for all intents and purposes, a child? He cursed himself for all kinds of fools.

 

That distraction cost him.

 

Pitch Black fired an oily barbed black arrow at him that screamed as if the very air felt pained at its passing.

 

His breath left his body in a rush as he was struck in the side and he lost control of his sand which spun away from him.

 

Falling, he heard Pitch screech, “Damn you, Jack Frost!” and realized that the winter child had shoved him out of the way of the arrow.

 

The ground rapidly approached, Frost's arms wrapped protectively around him and they hit the earth with breathtaking force. They tumbled and rolled, Sanderson spilling from Jack's embrace to land on the grass.

 

Blinking to clear the stars from his eyes, his vision was filled with a concerned bearded face. “Sandy! Are you well?”

 

The small man gingerly rose to his feet, accepting North's steadying hand, and shook his limbs finding himself whole. He flashed a thumbs up at North and craned his neck to locate Jack.

 

He bit his lip in consternation as Frost scrambled to his own feet, studiously ignoring Bunnymund's offered hand. With another pang, Sanderson guessed at part of the nightmare Pitch had 'gifted' the winter child.

 

The golden man glared up at where Pitch sat astride a nightmare. Then, his eyes widened and he ducked past North, his whips at the ready as with an oath, Pitch sent a concentrated swarm of fearlings at the small group, hoping to overwhelm them.

 

“Enough. Is. Enough.” Frost slammed his staff into the ground with a loud cry that brought to mind the howling winds in the dead of winter. The air rippled in expanding concentric circles. As it touched the oncoming wave, the fearlings instantly froze over, falling from the sky to shatter on the ground.

 

Pitch Black wheeled his mount away and urged it over the hill before he, too, could become frozen. Before he vanished from sight, Sanderson saw the crazed smile upon the Nightmare King's countenance and heard the cackled, “Finally, someone who knows how to have fun!”

 

Jack sank to his knees, clearly exhausted.

 

The world fell silent and Sanderson ran to his side, keeping the younger spirit from falling over onto the ground.

 

“You alright, mate?” Bunnymund crouched nearby, carefully maintaining his distance.

 

Frost nodded, face gaunt. “Tired.”

 

Toothiana, having recovered, peered over the edge of the sleigh, eyes wide. “How did you do that, Jack?”

 

Jack gave a slight shrug. “I didn't think I could.”

 

North motioned toward the sleigh. “Come. We need to recoup our strength. Pitch is gone. Nothing more can be done tonight about him.”

 

“We can't leave, yet,” Frost protested.

 

“We're all exhausted, mate,” Bunnymund cautioned. “We could all do with a rest before another encounter.”

 

“Yeah, but if we leave now, Pitch could move the tooth fairies before we can come back.” The winter child levered himself into a standing position, leaning heavily on his staff, his face determined, though Sanderson could see the dark circles forming beneath the silvered blue eyes.

 

“The tooth fairies are here?” North looked around the flat ground, expression skeptical.

 

Jack pointed off to the left. “I crawled out of a hole about two hundred yards that way. There's a lot of dead brush hiding it from view. Pitch's lair is a series of caverns and one had a bunch of hanging bird cages in it. They looked pretty new. Why else would Pitch have them if he wasn't using them for the fairies?”

 

Sanderson moved to stand beside the ice spirit and indicated for Jack to lead the way. A small smile appeared on his face as the last tiny fairy blurred through the air to land on Jack's shoulder with an excited trill.

 

Jack laughed shortly, giving a quick brush to the neck feathers with the back of his fingers, before the tiny fairy hopped to ride in his hood. “Okay, Baby Tooth. Let's go find your siblings.”

 

888

 


	3. Into the Catacombs / Confrontation and Breaking Jack's Staff / Cold Consequences / Mortal and Immortal Memories

 

North eyed the distance to the floor of the cavern with some distaste. Where Jack and Sanderson easily drifted into the cavern, the others didn't have that luxury. Toothiana couldn't fly at all anymore, and she'd never been a strong walker. Luckily, her weight was nigh on negligible as she clung to his shoulders piggy-back style.

 

The Spirit of Wonder looked dubiously at Bunnymund. “Can you safely land?”

 

“Shouldn't need ta. You forget, I can open a tunnel that can send us straight to the spot we need.” The Pooka tapped his paw on the ground opening a rabbit hole and the three slid to a gentle stop on the cavern floor.

 

The stone pressed in upon them, despite the large hole in the ceiling. North knew it would only get worse the further in they went. He shuddered, eying Jack with sympathy as he followed the ice spirit into the tunnel.

 

The young spirit headed toward a tunnel on the left. “C'mon. Soonest begun, soonest finished.”

 

They'd followed, the darkness engulfing them, instinct making them slow down despite not needing the light to see.

 

“What is this place?” Toothiana's amethyst eyes darted into every nook and cranny as they traveled.

 

“It's an old catacomb,” Jack's disembodied voice sent shivers down North's spine. “No one's used it for centuries, but the bones are still here.”

 

“How do you know which way to go?”

 

“Came this way before. And the Wind knows which way to blow, dontcha?”

 

The snow white hair got ruffled in acknowledgment.

 

They passed through several caverns; some empty, some lined with bones, others held casks and bottles. North guessed whichever village or town had used these catacombs had either died off themselves, or their entrance had sealed. The wines left behind would be worth a fortune in the mortal world if they had not turned to vinegar.

 

“Is it much further?” The air had grown close and stale, the temperature uncomfortably warm. North tugged at the collar of his coat, wishing he could shed it, keeping one eye on the ice spirit to see if the heat was causing him too much trouble.

 

“Not much farther,” Frost assured, though by his voice the conditions of the caverns were taking their toll. The younger spirit had slowed and sounded like he was leaning more heavily on his staff as he walked.

 

“Need a lift?” Bunnymund offered, gesturing to his own shoulders, the concern clear.

 

“I'm good.” They could hear the smile in his voice.

 

He led them down another tunnel and the frantic fluttering of wings could be heard up ahead, the sound deafening as they crept to the cavern's entrance.

 

Toothiana's fairies crowded within tier upon tier of small cages.

 

A large nightmare stalked between the hanging cages, taking delight in setting them swinging into one another with clangs and crashes that were nearly musical. The fairies tumbled within their prison, shrieking in pain and fear. Toothiana clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her cry of denial from alerting the nightmare to their presence. Her feathers fluffed outward in her rage.

 

Bunnymund gave a low snarl. “I don't have a clear shot,” he whispered. “There's too many cages in the way. I'd have ta enter the cavern proper, and there's no telling what that thing will do if it sees us.”

 

“Can you use one of your tunnels to get find a better angle?” Jack's hushed voice drifted to him.

 

The Pooka shook his head regretfully. “I could get us in here, but while Pitch has control of the area, my tunnels won't open.”

 

“Can you freeze it, Jack?” North's normally booming voice came out as the barest of whispers.

 

Jack shook his head. “I've got the same problem as Bunny. Too many cages in the way.”

 

Sanderson caught their attention and showed an image of Jack sending a tendril of ice along the floor of the cavern and freezing the nightmare in place.

 

The young spirit shrugged. “Worth a try, I guess.” After motioning the others to move back, “If this doesn't work, it'll know which direction I am, no need for it to see you, too,” Jack lowered himself to the ground, his staff extended before him. With a critical eye, he studied the cantering horse, noting that it mostly stayed near the center of the cavern. He took a breath and slowly let it out.

 

For a long moment, nothing happened and North feared the heat in the underground labyrinth had become too much for the ice spirit to handle. Then, almost invisible to even their unique sight, a tendril of ice snaked slowly across the cavern's floor. It pooled in a small hollow along the cavorting nightmare's path, spreading out several feet.

 

888

 

The tiny tooth fairies grew silent, sensing a change in air.

 

The nightmare cantered toward the tunnel entrance, and closer to the ice trap, as the strange behavior caught its attention.

 

Arrogance in every flowing line, it moved between the cages, nudging the hanging iron works out of its way. It gave a startled snort as its hooves found the ice, slipping on the slick surface. Before it could regain its balance, Jack tapped his staff on the ground. The ice rose up the nightmare's legs, entangling the beast.

 

With an outraged shriek that echoed painfully in their ears, it struggled against the icy confines, its powerful limbs cracking the ice before it could thicken.

 

Jack bit his lip, his eyes narrowed, his entire being focused on this one point. Unconsciously, he rose to his feet and glided on the ice toward the beast, needing to be closer, deaf to the alarmed cries from behind him.

 

More ice formed to replace what had shattered and fallen away, crawling further up the heaving body. The nightmare lunged, it front hooves flashing in dangerous proximity to the Winter Child standing mere feet away.

 

With a strange smile upon his face, Jack reached out a hand and caressed the horse's flank. A bright flare briefly brightened the room as frost crackled like lightning from his fingertips.

 

Another shriek pierced their ears, this one full of pain, and slowly the creature's movements slowed and stilled as a thick layer of translucent blue ice encased it.

 

888

 

A sigh shuddered from the slight figure and Frost sank to the ground, utterly spent.

 

Sanderson, his golden glow lighting the way, raced to kneel beside Jack, gesturing for the others to free the fairies. He turned the child over, shocked at how warm Jack's skin felt. He gathered the slight figure into his arms, not noticing as the spirit's staff rolled beyond their reach. He patted Frost's cheeks, hoping to wake the child before Pitch took advantaged.

 

888

 

Toothiana opened the first cage, ignoring the way the metal bit into her fingers. Though concerned about Jack as he had expended quite a lot of energy today, her first priority would always be her fairies.

 

The little ones cheeped and chirped at her, clinging to her arms as she reached in to them. Not until she pulled a few from the confines of the cage did they begin fluttering their wings with any kind of force. Her own strength seemed to increase, as well, with each fairy that she released. She glared at the cage. “You guys, there's something weird about these cages. They're draining my fairies. We can't just open them, we'll have to physically remove them from the cage. They won't be able to fly before then.”

 

888

 

Bunnymund cursed quietly to himself. North could reach the second tier of cages and with controlled hops he could get to the third tier. He briefly thought about trying to climb the chains to reach the last two tiers, but dismissed the notion after feeling the metal bite into his skin. Only a flyer would be able to access the last two tiers. Toothiana still couldn't fly, and Frost appeared out for the count at this time. “Sandy! We need your help.” He spotted the scowl shot his way and gave a helpless shrug. “I know, mate. But none of us can reach the higher ones.”

 

He crouched beside the two and held out his arms. “I'll watch him for you.”

 

Sandy gently brushed some hair from the ice spirit's forehead revealing a nasty gash that had reopened during Frost's exertions. Saddened golden eyes bore into his own and he nodded solemnly. “He'll be safe with me. I swear it.”

 

With infinite gentleness, Sanderson transferred the ice spirit into his arms and then flew off to open cages. Bunnymund marveled at how little Frost weighed. “Guess that makes sense, though,” he murmured, feeling the barest whisper of a breeze move around them. “You get carried by the Wind. It makes sense you'd be about as light as a feather.”

 

He glanced up to check how things were progressing, noting that three quarters of the fairies were free of their cages, now. Most clung to Toothiana, hanging onto her feathers while she cradled the more severely injured in her arms. Her own wings had begun beating and she hovered a few inches off the ground; her expression set in fierce anger.

 

Looking back down at Frost, he stifled an instinctive jerk as silvered blue eyes stared steadily up at him.

 

Trying to regain his composure, Bunnymund smiled, though he feared it looked more like a grimace. “Hey, boyo. Doing alright? That was a fine piece of work you did, dealing with that nightmare.”

 

Frost's gaze flickered toward the frozen beast before returning to stare again. Bunnymund couldn't quite figure out the expression on the younger spirit's face. “Had us worried when you took that header. I'm guessin' yer pretty tuckered out, ey?”

 

A slow nod was the response. “The tooth fairies?” Frost's voice drifted softly and faded like snowflakes that disappeared at the slightest bit of warmth.

 

Bunnymund shifted the slight weight in his arms so the spirit could see for himself. “Mostly okay. A few seem a mite bruised and battered, but nothing some care and rest won't eventually cure.

 

He felt the tension leave the body. “Oh. Good.”

 

Bunnymund glanced back at the nightmare and shook his head in admiration. “You sure pack a whollop, dontcha?”

 

“Yes. He certainly does. And that's a problem.”

 

The cavern's occupants froze in place as the mocking voice echoed from the shadows.

 

888

 

Pitch Black appeared in the center of the room, his back arrogantly set against Toothiana, North, and Sanderson, his attention completely focused on the ice sprite lying in Bunnymund's arms. “You're more of a threat than I anticipated, Frost. It's time to take care of that.” In one hand he negligently tossed a golden container, in the other he twirled a familiar crooked staff.

 

Jack sat upright in a swift motion, one hand automatically reaching out entreatingly.

 

“What do you want, Jack? Your staff?” Pitch held it out slightly, pulling it back out of reach as the ice spirit shifted to his knees. “Perhaps you'd like your memories?” He shook the memory box mockingly.

 

Lips pressed tightly together, Frost struggled to his feet, his cold gaze piercing the Nightmare King. “Give it back, Pitch.” He reached again for his staff.

 

“No need to fear, my dear.”

 

Jack scoffed, a bitter sound that sounded older than his apparent years. “I'm not afraid of you.”

 

“Perhaps,” Pitch conceded. Shadows sprang up, separating the two from the others. As Pitch worked his magic it was as if only the two of them existed as the others faded from their conscious attention. “But I know your greatest fear.” A humorless chuckle echoed. “That's what I do. I know everyone's fears. You fear no one will ever see you. That you'll always be alone. And worse, you fear you'll never know why.” He smirked at the flinch Jack couldn't suppress. “Why were you chosen only to be ignored for three hundred years by the very one who brought you into being?” Dull yellow eyes pierced through the shadows to rake over the fuming Guardians, his tone mocking. “Why no one seemed to care or to get to know the real you, instead basing their opinion on things you couldn't help – on things that were caused by your very nature.” He caressed the container with a gray thumb. “I have your answers, Jack. Finally, you can find out who you were, and what you were meant to be.”

 

“What do you want, Pitch?”

 

“The same things you do. To be seen. To be believed in. To have family. For centuries I thought myself alone – that no one knew the way I felt.” He gestured, “But there you are. In the same position I'm in.” he studied the slim form standing defiantly before him despite the evident exhaustion. “They'll never really accept you, you know. They will always think you're too unpredictable. Too dangerous.” He glided closer, though made sure to stay just out of immediate reach. “But you could join me.”

 

Frost blinked up at him, still wary, but he didn't move away. Pitch hid his glee as he heard the others' shouted denials, his shadows keeping the comments from reaching the snow child. He dropped his voice into a velvet seductive tone. “Look at what the two of us can do together.” He motioned toward the frozen nightmare, the ice giving the creature a strange ethereal beauty. “What goes better with cold than dark? Together we can make the children believe in us.” He got caught up in the idea of ruling the world with Jack Frost at his side. Together they could do wondrous things. “Then everything, everything would be...”

 

“Pitch Black?” came the knowing, sardonic question.

 

Pitch blinked, feeling he was losing Jack's support and interest. “And Jack Frost. They'd believe is us both.”

 

“They'd fear us, you mean.” Frost shook his head, taking a step backward. “That's not what I want, Pitch. I get enough of that, now. I'd rather spend my existence alone, than have everyone afraid of me.”

 

Pitch cocked his head, the concept of voluntary solitude taking him aback. From the sudden silence on the other side of the shadow wall, the idea startled the others, too.

 

Bunnymund smirked at him and Pitch felt his hands clenched involuntarily upon the items he held. A cruel smirk spread across his features, more directed at the Guardians than the snow child before him. “You wish to be alone? Very well. But, never let it be said that I'm not a generous soul.”

 

Frost tensed at the malevolent tone, dropping into a defensive crouch.

 

“I know one other thing you fear. Something beyond never being believe in. Something that fills you with dread at the very thought” He inwardly cackled at the stricken look on Frost's face as he realized Pitch's plan. “At least you'll end up with a memory or two before the end. It's not the ideal way of doing things, I'd need a willing fairy for that, but we can't have everything, can we?”

 

The snow child leaped at him, but Pitch was quicker, slamming the crooked staff into the memory box. Teeth spilled from the broken container and the room echoed with the sharp crack as the staff snapped in two.

 

A double flare of gold and blue light blinded everyone causing the shadow wall to disappear.

 

888

 

A wail of agony tore from his throat; one hand grasping the fabric of his hoodie over his heart in a death grip as Jack felt something deep in his chest splinter and crack as the two pieces of his staff clattered to the ground. His legs collapsed beneath him and hard stone bruised his knees.

 

The nails of one hand desperately clawed at the side of his head, blood trickling down his face in a bid to relieve the pressure in his skull. All the memories of his life as a mortal crashed into his mind, a cacophony of sights and sounds that bombarded him with no rhyme or reason until he feared he'd go mad.

 

Feathers brushed the side of his face and neck as Baby Tooth crawled from the hood of his jacket and pressed herself into the juncture between his neck and shoulder using her powers to try and slow the maelstrom of memories; the uncontrollable torrent almost too much for her.

 

Minutes, hours, a life-time passed. He could feel his powers unraveling and knew there wasn't much time before he lost his grip on them entirely. The sensation felt similar to the beginning of the blizzard of '68, only much more intense. With a mental heave, Jack shoved everything to the back of his mind, knowing he'd pay for it later, but there were more pressing matters to attend to.

 

The temperature plunged and a laugh slipped out, then another at the expression on the others' faces.

 

Toothiana had all her fairies hiding behind her, her eyes wide in fright and concern.

 

Bunnymund looked uneasy, as did North; their hands gripping their weapons tightly.

 

Sanderson's own expression of mounting terror nearly broke his heart, but he had no time to reassure the smaller man; wasn't sure he even could with any honesty.

 

Up until he locked his cold blue gaze upon Pitch, the Nightmare King's expression had been insufferably smug. Now, Pitch looked confused, his expression tight with discontent at the laughter, which only made Jack laugh all the harder.

 

“You say you know my greatest fear, Pitch.” The words were clipped, frigid, and emotionless, an echo of cracking ice within the tones. “You obviously never thought to wonder why.”

 

Snow began falling in the cavern, an impossibility. They fell faster and faster, blown erratically by the Wind.

 

Pitch shifted, intent on fading into a shadow and escaping. With a negligent motion of his hand, Jack froze the Boogeyman from the waist down, preventing Pitch from moving.

 

Jack tilted his head, glancing at the others from the corner of his eyes “You'll want to leave now.” All emotion had drained from him leaving the usually jovial spirit feeling empty, his voice hollow.

 

“Mate?” Bunnymund stood shivering violently, but unwilling to abandon him.

 

Jack found he couldn't even force a smirk. “Remember that blizzard? I couldn't really help it, you know. I got a hairline fracture in my staff during our game. No telling how bad this is going to get.”

 

Wide eyes stared in horror at the two halves of the crooked staff lying on the floor. Realization dawning that the fragile piece of wood didn't contain his powers, but rather constrained them.

 

“You have lost control?” North's gruff voice echoed in the now painfully cold room.

 

Jack tilted his head in acknowledgment. His gaze shifted to the fairy still stubbornly clinging to his hoodie, despite the cold. “You, too, Baby Tooth. Time to leave.”

 

She started shaking her head, unwilling to leave before finishing with the memories. It would be too dangerous. She chirped and squealed, trying to convey her distress.

 

“It doesn't matter,” he tried to sooth, his own body beginning to shake as he tried to hold off the inevitable. The Wind scoped the fairy up and deposited her into Toothiana's hands.

 

“Get out.” The Guardians visibly shrinking from the cold tones. He looked at Bunnymund, trying to convey the desperation of the situation.

 

888

 

Knowing the others would refuse to leave on their own accord, such was their worry for the young spirit, Bunnymund hopped over to them and tapped his foot on the floor, hoping that with Pitch otherwise distracted, that he could open a rabbit hole.

 

To his everlasting relief, a tunnel opened beneath their feet, spilling the other Guardians down and away from the cavern where air had become too cold to breath. “Hope you survive, mate.” With a salute, the Pooka jumped in after the others, a rime of frost upon his fur.

 

888

 

Jack held himself still, feeling his body wanting to become one with the storm brewing in the cavern. He knew if he did that, then everything would be lost.

 

The cages swung wildly on their chains as the Wind whipped in a frenzy, sending snow and shards of ice upon the stone.

 

He looked dispassionately at the trapped Nightmare King. The being's gray skin had taken on a definite blue hue and he shuddered and shook as he thrashed trying to free himself.

 

“Guess it's just the two of us, Pitch.” He drifted closer to the Boogeyman, staring with the curiosity of a child at a bug trapped under glass.

 

Stone froze, then cracked and shattered beneath his feet as the air reached sub zero temperatures.

 

“S-stop, F-frost. I s-swear. I-I'm not y-your enemy. We-we could b-be great t-together.” The Nightmare King's shivering lessened, his dull gold coin eyes filled with trepidation and a drowsy terror as the cold took root within his bones.

 

Frost shook his head almost regretfully. “I cannot, Pitch. You took that control from me when you destroyed my staff. This has to run its course now, if it ever will.”

 

“R-release me at once!” the near frozen Boogeyman blustered.

 

Jack cocked his head and replied almost cruelly. “What's wrong? Not enjoying the turnabout? You've used your powers on me many times over the centuries. Aren't you enjoying the returned attention?”

 

888

 

“Damn you, Bunnymund,” North roared as the Pooka opened a tunnel beneath them and dripped them out of the dangerously cold cavern. His last glimpse of Jack Frost had near ripped his soul. The blank expression upon the normally expressive face frightened him more than he cared to admit. “We must go back. We cannot just abandon him.”

 

The Rabbit ignored him, opening tunnels seemingly at random, sticking his head out briefly before moving on. Finally, he motioned them to follow and they exited into a cavern where the memory boxes lay piled high in heaps. “Look, mate. We can't help Frost. But we can recover the teeth and help the children.”

 

Despite his anger at the Pooka's indifference to Frost's plight, North had to admit Bunnymund was right. The children had to take precedence at this time.

 

The four Guardians, along with those fairies that were fit to fly, quickly gathered the containers and carted them down into the Rabbit's tunnels. As they hopped into the hole, the air in the cavern began to crystallize as Frost's powers reached their current location. Hoarfrost coated the stone and caused the lungs to spasm as it quickly overtook the room.

 

North gave a convulsive shudder as ice coated his boot. The cold became too intense for even him to bear any longer. He cast one forlorn gaze before following the others into the tunnels, praying they'd be able to return for Jack soon.

 

888

 

'Nothing goes better with cold than darkness.' The Nightmare King cursed himself for the very thought. He could admit, if only to himself, that the idea of corrupting the light-hearted 'child' that Frost had a first appeared had attracted him. But now, faced with an expression empty of all save a cold calculated curiosity, the Boogeyman felt a twinge of the very fear he gifted to others fill his heart.

 

Ice encased him, holding him tight, cutting off his air, suffocating.

  
The violent shivers had slowed and then stopped, a warm lassitude spreading through his veins.

 

As conditions worsened in the cavern, he'd watched in horrid fascination as Jack Frost's form grew translucent, seeming to dissolve into the storm. He could feel the child's fear, but as a vague, distant thing, as if Jack no longer truly stood before him.

 

The sub-artic air sawed through his lungs like razors. The coppery taste of blood coated the back of his throat as the air dried out his sinuses, causing them to crack and bleed as the moisture was wicked away.

 

A mortal would have died by now. Being a spirit, damage took longer to take affect and grim certainty that this was the end took over.

 

The ice covered his head and he thought he heard a high-pitched laugh before he descended into oblivion.

 

888

 

Jack Frost struggled:

 

With his powers – to keep them from devastating an area already hard hit by winter.

 

With his memories – images and sounds floated up demanding his attention.

 

With his weariness – three hundred years alone and he was just so tired.

 

He'd felt this way before. Not often, but every once in a long while he'd long to just let go, spread himself thin upon the Wind until he no longer existed. During those times, Winter was always more biting and bitter.

 

He knew he couldn't, though. Not entirely. Winter, which lay locked within his bones, would stalk the entire world, killing all in its grasp. Relentless. Merciless. Until a new ice age dawned if left without anything to reign it in.

 

 

 

The Teeth held Mortal memories.

 

With a deep sigh, Winter's Child let them wash over him.

 

Jackson Overland, born third of four children, had grown up mostly ignored by his family. His father, the minister for the town of Burgess and its surrounding dioceses, and secure in his family's positions in heaven, spent his time shepherding his congregation rather than at home. He despaired at his youngest son's mischievous demeanor, but as Jack had never been malicious, he had let it be. William, his oldest brother and ten years his senior, focused his attention on his own wife and child while making a living as a candlemaker. Thomas, only one year younger than William, had left several years ago to study medicine in one of the larger towns down the coastline.

 

Jackson, himself, had been born in the middle of one of the worst snow storms of the decade. Despite not being able to get a doctor or midwife, the birth had been a relatively easy one for Mrs Overland.

 

Compared to his brothers, Jack had been an undemanding child, equally happy alone or in the company of other, frequently laughing.

 

Two miscarriages and a stillborn child had preceded Lily's birth. The young girl, six years younger than Jackson, had been a tiny thing. Their mother spent all her time and energy doting on Lily; afraid that if she let the girl out of her sight she'd lose her.

 

Left to his own devices, Jackson had turned to the village's children for companionship. He turned common chores into games; found adventure in the most innocuous of places. He involved his sister as often as he could, becoming both her best friend and her protector.

 

He enjoyed the turning of the seasons, but found he loved Winter the best. When others complained about the cold, he'd get fussed at for leaving a window cracked open. He built snow forts and started snowball fights, drawing others into the fun as well.

 

When he'd died, his joy of winter, desire to see others have fun, and self-sacrificing nature caused the Man in the Moon to choose him as the current Spirit of Winter, Winter's Child.

 

 

 

The Staff held Immortal memories.

 

Immortal was a misnomer. It implied a longevity and imperviousness that didn't actually exist.

 

Spirits could die. Some couldn't handle their duties and they voluntarily released hold on their forms. Some went rogue and had to be hunted down and destroyed like rabid dogs. Some died through prolonged contact with their polar opposite element; a slow poisoning. A few were killed by more predatory spirits who actively feasted upon the energies.

 

Nature spirits, especially those of the Four Seasons, tended to get absorbed by their Season.

 

Jack was not the first spirit to wield the Staff. Each Winter Spirit before him left an imprint of themselves within it. Each time the Staff had cracked (and Jack didn't like to think how often that actually occurred in the last three hundred years) a trickle of memory from one of the previous staff bearers would leak through. It always left him feeling out of sorts before he could push the foreign feelings away, and the storms were always more brutal.

 

The Winter's Child had not been impressed with what he garnered from the previous spirits. As a whole, they'd all been 'called' when much older than he. Set in their ways, they tried to force Winter to do their bidding, ruling with iron fists and unyielding demands, only losing their holds when Winter rebelled. They wallowed in the bitterness and cold, until devoured from within.

 

With the breaking of the Staff, the various personalities surged forward, attempting to overwhelm him in order to take control of Winter and use it as a tool to bring the world to its knees.

 

There were too many of them, and combined, they were too powerful for him.

  
He did the only thing he could.

 

He turned to Winter itself for assistance.

 

888

 


	4. Winter's Child / A Few Explanations

 

Toothiana fluttered across North's massive workroom, her gaze locked on the large Globe that dominated the area. Lights sparkled and shone along its surface, each an indicator of a child's belief. She rubbed her hands briskly along her arms, trying to ward of the mental chill of not being believed in.

 

Four days ago they had recovered her fairies and the memory containers full of children's teeth.

 

The children were safe and their belief was strong, but their victory sat like ashes on her tongue.

 

No one had heard from Jack Frost in all that time.

 

She shuddered again, remembering her last glimpse of the young spirit. His actions and power had surprised and frightened her. “Jack's not a minor ice spirit, is he?”

 

E. Aster Bunnymund didn't turn from his position in a window seat where he contemplated the snowy terrain outside North's Workshop. “Doesn't look that way, does it?”

 

She settled beside him on the cushion, letting her own gaze get captured by the swirls of snow that lashed down in tiny hailstones. “What happened in '68?”

 

The Pooka sighed, but didn't seem surprised by the question. “In retrospect, I'd call it a prank, a call for attention. Hell, for all I know, he just thought it would make things prettier. It was Easter Sunday. Dawn. The little bugger made it snow. It wasn't deep, or even particularly cold.” He paused, a wry twist to his mouth. “On any other day, I would have enjoyed how it made everything look. Like frosting on the grassy hills. The children would have loved it.” He cleared his throat, shifting on the cushion. “I'd been in a sour mood. Hadn't slept well the last few night getting ready for the big day. So, … I wasn't as understanding as I could have been when Frost showed up to play.” He shrugged uneasily. “I tossed a few color bombs at him, hoping to scare him away. I guess that's when his staff cracked. When the temperature worsened and the temperature plummeted, I figured the blighter was pitching a fit at being brushed aside. Now I know that his expression was one of pain, not anger. He slipped away before I could reach him. Good thing, I don't know what I would have done had I actually got hold of him.”

 

“How bad was the storm?”

 

“It lasted three days. The area ended up in over six feet of snow. It killed all the budding flowers and some trees. Caused quite a bit of property damage in the village and a good portion of the sheep died; the storm had come up so quickly and ferociously that no one had time to bring in the flocks. It was only a miracle that no humans lost their lives, though a few toes had to be amputated due to frostbite.”

 

“And now, with his staff broken in half...” her horrified voice stuck in her throat.

 

“No telling how bad the damage will be,” the Pooka solemnly agreed.

 

“Or how long it will last.” Toothiana jumped slightly at North's voice behind her. The large man pulled an armchair closer to the window to stare outside at the snow as well, his expression drawn and weary. Sanderson perched on the headrest of the chair, his own face grave.

 

“Can we do anything to help?” She unconsciously wrung her hands together, hating the inactivity.

 

Sandy indicated the passing of two more days and showed the four of them trouping once more down into the cavern.

 

“Will we even be able to find the entrance again?” North asked.

 

“I can bring us back to the point where we exited the caverns, the room where Pitch had all the memory boxes cached. After that though,” Bunnymund shrugged.

 

Toothiana leaned against the window frame, glad to be able to provide something positive. “Baby Tooth can find him.” At their surprised looks she elaborated. “When the memory box opened, Baby Tooth took it upon herself to try and direct the flow, to keep Jack from being too overwhelmed. He sent her away before she could finish, but the link is still there.”

 

“Can the little sheila tell how he is?”

 

“Just that he's still struggling with his memories. Beyond that, she isn't truly trained to deal with a total memory box failure.” She tapped her bottom lip. “It's happened so rarely, that none of my girls are really ready for that particular challenge. I'm definitely running them through some training over the next few years.” She turned to look at the others, her expression unusually somber. “What exactly is Jack? I've heard of minor spirits whose powers were dependent upon some artifact given them at their awakening, but never before one whose powers were suppressed by it.”

 

North chewed on his mustache, eyes far away. “There is something … something niggles in the back of my mind. I will have to think on it.”

 

Sanderson shrugged, but Toothiana caught the small golden man give the Moon a speculative look.

 

The Moon, however, remained silent on the subject, only brightening in agreement to their plan to check on Jack in two days' time.

 

888

 

The four Guardians cautiously entered Pitch Black's lair two days later. Even so far from the epicenter they could see evidence of ice and frost damage along the cavern walls, though none now remained.

 

The air tasted cold and crisp, a distinct difference from the oppressive stuffiness and sour scent of fear from before.

 

“Which way?” North cringed slightly as his voice echoed loudly in the cavern.

 

Toothiana looked down at her cupped hands; Baby Tooth, the tiny fairy that Jack had rescued, sat trembling within. As the days passed, she'd become more jittery and absent-minded, rarely flying on her own as the link she'd formed with Jack thrummed and sang within her very bones, demanding that she complete the job she'd begun.

 

The Tooth Fairy had felt uneasy about bringing the small fairy back to the catacombs, but knew the link between her and Jack was their best chance in quickly locating Jack within the labyrinth of tunnels.

 

A tiny finger pointed in one direction.

 

The journey continued largely silently. Each member sunk into their own thoughts and not willing to risk the echoes that seemed to mock them.

 

Huddled around the entrance to the cavern where they'd freed the fairies and lost Jack, the four stared in wide-eyed confusion. The cages no longer hung empty. Several now contained a crystalline figure of an adult sitting doubled up with their knees crowded beneath their chin. Most were male, though a few females hung here or there. Each had a frozen expression of cruelty and bitterness stamped upon their features.

 

In the center of the room, where the frozen nightmare once stood, was an elaborate bier of ice. Jack Frost lay curled on his side within an open coffin of clear ice. His hands lay clasped beneath his cheek and appeared for all the world like a peacefully sleeping child, but his form looked faded and translucent, as if his body wasn't really all there.

 

With a dismayed gasp, North took a step into the cavern, intent on reaching Jack's side. He came to a sudden halt as a cold 'angry' growl echoed through the room, sending shards of ice through his heart. Blue eyes flickering madly about, he could just make out a semi-invisible presence that hovered beside Frost's resting place. Hostility radiated from the being, the killing chill of Winter reached out toward them.

 

North didn't need the frantic signals from the Sandman to raise his hands in a placating manner and ease himself back over the cavern's threshold.

 

Watching them warily, the unknown entity seemingly comprised of a faint cloud of icy fog, caressed the snow child's hair in a protective and possessive manner. Long minutes passed, and when the Guardians made no move, the being dismissed them as unimportant.

 

The fog spilled into the coffin, engulfing the slight figure. Withdrawing, it pulled with it a mist the color of dirty snow. The mist wriggled and writhed, hissing and snarling in the fog's grasp as it was floated toward one of the cages. The impression of shouts and screams came to them, sounding like snow and hailstones upon the wind. Deposited within a cage, they watched in shock as the mist coalesced into a humanoid figure. The winterized diatribe became clear, “...can't do this to me. I own you. I shall control Winter. You will bow to me...”

 

The deep snap of an impending avalanche echoed within the cavern and the figure crystallized within the cage, color leeching away along with its vitality until it became nothing more than an ice sculpture.

 

The fog, pulsing with a brighter glow, returned to the coffin and swirled around Jack Frost's silent form. Flaring like the aurora borealis, the glow transferred from the fog to the recumbent figure and Jack's body took on more color and substance.

 

Four more times the presence repeated the ritual, and each time Jack Frost grew more solid and tethered to 'here'.

 

“What is going on?” Bunnymund muttered, his voice hushed and a frisson of fear laced the tone.

 

Sanderson tugged on North's sleeve, pointing at a second tier cage, his expression one of surprise, wonder, and faint trepidation.

 

Within the cage crouched a large, bearded figure whose bushy brows were drawn in a ferocious scowl. The heavy winter coat looked similar to North's own and clues finally clicked for the Guardian of Wonder. “Why did I not see the connection before?” he murmured in stunned incredulity.

 

“What connection?” Toothiana whispered, clinging tightly to Baby Tooth who wanted to fly to Jack's side.

 

“Do you remember Grandfather Winter?”

 

“That ploinker? Dour old man. Kinda looked like you?”

 

“He was more than dour. He was cold and cruel individual. Detested that he had to share his season with my Holiday. When a child mistakenly called him by my name, he retaliated by burying the entire village in snow, killing many.”

 

“Didn't he disappear a few centuries ago?”

 

“Three, to be precise.” He pointed out the cage where the ice statue of Grandfather Winter hung. “He disappeared during a Winter with record-breaking temperatures a few short years later.” His blue eyes returned to the ice coffin, saddened. “We began hearing rumors about Jack Frost not long after.”

 

“Are you saying...”

 

“Jack Frost is no minor winter spirit as we all believed. He is the Spirit of Winter, the embodiment of Winter himself.” He frowned, angry with himself. “There have been legends of Winter's Child. He that holds Winter within his bones and keeps it from transforming the world into a vast wasteland of ice and snow.” He turned to look helplessly at the Sandman. “How did we overlook this, Sandy? How could I have forgotten the tales?” Anguish colored his tone.

 

Sanderson sighed, showing an image of Jack Frost hidden out of sight.

 

“Out of sight, out of mind.” North snorted bitterly. “Doesn't quite excuse it. It's not like I 'see' every child I bring toys, or those who I know are on the 'Naughty' list.”

 

888

 

“What do you mean by Winter's in his bones?” Toothiana practically mouthed the words, knowing her higher register would break the silence and possibly draw unwanted notice. The half-seen presence unnerved her. She got the feeling it was normally much wilder and larger than what they currently could sense. It prowled around the cavern like a large animal; intelligent to a degree, cunning, but ruled by instinct and loyal to none, or at least only a select few. She did not want its attention turned upon her. She sensed that had it felt they were a threat to Jack it would have torn them to pieces and devoured them in an instant.

 

“Of the Four Seasons, Winter is by far the wildest and most deadly. Left to its own devices it would continue all year long. Is why Earth had Ice Age. Long ago, Mother Nature decided Winter needed its more dangerous aspects leashed. Created a spirit and bound Winter in their bones.”

 

“Why are there so many?” Bunnymund swept an arm to encompass the room, his eyes tracking the fog as it continued to drift between Jack and the cages.

 

“The spirits don't tend to last very long. They become...” North lapsed into Russian, finding it difficult to locate the words he wanted in English. “They lose track of purpose. Something causes them to no longer be content to leash Winter. They try to rule it, bend it to their will and wield it as a tool. They forget themselves, disregard the danger Winter can be, and are devoured by it.”

 

Sanderson projected an image of a figure that disperses into a swirl of snowflakes.

 

“They become the storm?” Toothiana ventured.

 

The small being nodded. Then pointed at the bier.

 

The fog, what they now knew was Winter itself, settled beside Jack within the coffin. A tendril stroked the side of the young spirit's face, an oddly parental movement that echoed ones they'd seen mothers and fathers do when trying to gently waken their children.

 

Silvered blue eyes fluttered open, brow creasing in confusion at first before clearing. A wondering smile crossed Jack's face as he looked up at Winter.

 

The smile faded somewhat and Frost nodded solemnly at something that went unheard by the Guardians.

 

In slow pain-filled movements, Jack rose to his knees, Winter steadying him. The two halves of his staff were held out parallel to the ground, two tendrils of fog along the wood beside his own pale hands. The two beings stared at one another, and several emotions flittered across Jack's face too quickly for the others to decipher. With a deep breath, Jack slammed the two pieces together, shouting out a word filled with hailstones, cracking ice, and snow.

 

A flare of ice lightning filled the room, rippling outward from the now whole staff in ever widening concentric circles. At its touch, the ice figures shattered within their cages, swirling away in a flurry of snow. The blast went as far as the cavern walls and no further, leaving the five watchers untouched save for a profound chill.

 

A blue white halo rimmed Jack's body as Winter flowed into the still figure, sinking beneath the skin, and ruffling Jack's hair and clothing in a non-existent wind.

 

888

 

The glow disappeared, retreating into the staff.

 

Toothiana gasped as Baby Tooth flew out of her hands and made a bee-line for the still kneeling figure.

 

Everything within the tiny fairy demanded she finish what she had begun a week ago.

 

Fluttering before Jack, her amethyst eyes, so like her mother's, searched silvered blue ones. The two stayed with locked gazes for a long moment before, with a trill, Baby Tooth snuggled into the crook between Jack's neck and shoulder.

 

Jack sat back on his haunches, careful not to dislodge the small body. With a trembling hand, he caressed the soft feathers along the back of her neck. “Hey, Baby Tooth,” the tired murmur traveled no further than her ear.

 

She chirruped and settled herself more firmly into the bond, determined that no horrible side-effects would linger to plague Jack from suffering through the forced return of his memories.

 

A ghost of a smile crossed Jack's pale countenance. “I'll be fine, Baby Tooth. Just have a lot to settle in my head.”

 

888

 

The others finally entered the cavern. Sanderson flew over to sit beside Jack, ignoring the fact that this was a coffin. He took the spirit's hands in both of his, staring earnestly up into his face. Images flashed above his head in quick succession.

 

Jack nodded slowly. “I'll be okay. Just a little tired from everything.”

 

Nicholas St. North strode over and knelt so he was eye level with the boy – isn't that what Pitch Black had stated, that despite being a spirit, Jack was still just a child? He placed a hand on the shoulder opposite Baby Tooth's perch, his heart breaking at the slight flinch. “Are you alright?”

 

Eyes the color of a frozen pond blinked up at him in puzzlement. “Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”

 

“You've been down here over a week, mate. And before that, you'd had your staff broken after exhausting yourself fighting Pitch.” Bunnymund's growl didn't hide the concern he felt.

 

A quiet moment of contemplation passed. “Oh.” The Winter's Child shrugged, effectively dismissing the concern, and incidentally removing North's hand from his shoulder. He gently disengaged from Sanderson's grasp with a small smile and clambered out of the coffin to stand on shaky legs beside the bier. Leaning lightly upon his staff, he glanced around the cavern. A small noise of distress sounded from the back of his throat and with a determined step he headed for the tunnel's entrance, gracefully maneuvering around the hanging cages.

 

“Oi!” Bunnymund bounded to catch up to the now swiftly moving spirit. “Iffen yer in a hurry, we can take one of my tunnels,” he tentatively offered, not quite sure how to react to a quiet jack Frost.

 

A small smile accompanied the shake of a snow-white head. “I don't think you could open one here. Winter had full reign for most of the time, we'll be lucky this area doesn't remain permafrost. Besides, I've been stationary for way too long, I need to stretch my legs.” He cast a mischievous look at the Easter Bunny. “The Groundhog's going to be annoyed with me, though.”

 

Ears twitching at the name of his rival, the Pooka frowned. “Why's that?”

 

“Well. According to him, I've got three more weeks of winter, before Spring officially starts, but I'm wiped. Might ask Spring to start a bit early so I can get some rest before I head down to the Southern Hemisphere.” His brow wrinkled. “'Course, if Spring starts early, that will mean that Summer will last longer than average.” He heaved a sigh, “Autumn is kinda lazy and needs to be prodded at times to start cooling things down in preparation for Winter.”

 

888

 

Jack took turns seemingly at random, but with careful examination you could see where bits of his clothing were tugged by the Wind to lead him in the correct direction. Bunnymund had, indeed, confirmed that he couldn't open any rabbit holes here where Winter had personally stalked, so they walked the miles of tunnels back to the entrance.

 

Jack looked tired prompting North to ask with some concern, “Where do you live, Jack?”

 

The Winter's Child cast a side-long look at the large red-clad figure. “My lake near Burgess.”

 

“But, there's no building there,” Toothiana objected.

 

“I don't need a permanent building. Why would I?” He caught their puzzled expressions and tried to explain. He gestured toward the Tooth Fairy. “I don't collect things like you do, Toothiana. And I don't create things like North and Bunnymund to where I need a place to store any tools.” He glanced over at the Sandman, a faint smile on his face. “Not sure about you, Sandy. Do you have a house?”

 

The Sandman shook his head, indicating a small sandcastle for when he slept that dissolved when not in use.

 

“See?” He skipped over some debris and headed down another tunnel; the air smelled fresher than before. The entrance was near.

 

“But, where do you sleep?” Toothiana persisted.

 

“When I sleep, I sleep wherever I please. Sometimes in trees or even children's tree houses. I've even built igloos near playgrounds for kids to find and use the next morning.” He shrugged. “Most of the time, when I do sleep, it's in a soft snow bank. I'm not too picky.”

 

“When you sleep?” North prompted.

 

Jack sighed and picked up his pace, hoping to reach the exit soon and end the conversation. “You do realize that there's snow somewhere in the world all year round, right? I'm pretty busy most of the year and only sleep a few days here and there when things slow down.” He paused. “I'm not quite sure you can count it as sleep, but I've spent more time unconscious this past week than I have in a decade.”

 

He smirked at the shocked silence from those behind him, then chuckled at Baby Tooth's snickering from her spot on his shoulder.

 

Passing one last turn, they finally reached the cavern that opened to the sky. Moonlight streamed downward, bathing the area in a pale light. “Still not happy with you,” Jack muttered, a dark expression flitting over his face. Things would have been so much easier, as well as less lonely, if the Man in the Moon had made any attempt at all to explain things to the young spirit.

 

The light contracted apologetically, causing the shadows to dance.

 

“What happened to Pitch Black?” North asked as if just realizing that despite being in a desperate fight against the Nightmare King, the being had not made his presence known.

 

With a sigh, Jack Frost sat cross-legged on the ground within the moonbeam, holding his staff across his legs, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. He gestured for the others to join him. North sat to his left, grunting as he settled his significant bulk to sit on the floor. Bunnymund crouched to his left. Both Toothiana and Sanderson sat across from him. “He ...” fingers twisted together in complicated patterns as he tried to put thought into words. “Pitch threw things out of balance. His actions, even before he broke my staff, caused the balance we need to survive – spirits and mortals alike – to go out of whack. By releasing Winter, after causing so many children to disbelieve, he nearly destroyed the entire world.” He watched the others shiver at the implication. Jack wrapped his arms around himself, staring down at the ground in remembrance. “He became the sole focus of Winter's rage and was inches away from being reduced to his atomic components.” He fell silent.

 

“What happened?” Toothiana softly asked.

 

“Mother Nature came to collect him.” The Guardians gaped – none had ever had contact with Mother Nature before. Jack gave a wry smile, looking back up at them. “I'm not like you guys. Not really. You each govern an Idea. Wonder, Hope, Memories, Dreams. Where I'm the embodiment of an entire Season. Despite being Chosen by the Man in the Moon as Winter's Child, I'm under Mother Nature's auspice. She felt the balance tip and came to take care of what She could.”

 

He let his memory of seeing Mother Nature replay in his mind, a soft smile upon his face.

 

Dressed in Her winter garb and thus able to withstand most of Winter's fury, Mother Nature appeared in the cavern where Jack struggled to maintain self and Pitch Black struggled to survive.

 

She didn't speak, not out loud, but the three beings understood her anyway.

 

Fear was necessary for survival, but not enough was just as crippling as too much. Pitch Black needed to regain balance and she would insure he did, or a new Boogeyman would be Chosen.

 

Winter needed to remain reined in, but it was Jack's responsibility to do so – or he'd become just as lost as the previous winter spirits. She reminded him of something important, that he had never demanded anything of Winter in the past, then kissed his brow despite the burn it caused on Her lips from the cold, and vanished, taking the Nightmare King with Her.

 

Jack refocused on his listeners. “If Pitch Black returns, he'll be drastically changed.”

 

“How did you defeat Winter?” Bunnymund asked.

 

“I didn't.” He had to grin at the confusion, feeling some of the exhaustion leave him as he sat within the Moon's embrace. “The shades of past Winter spirits almost overwhelmed me. Only the fact that they refused to work together let me hold them off as long as I did, but they were wearing me down at a rapid rate. Winter helped me overcome them.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I asked.” Heads tilted in confusion. “I didn't demand. Didn't just assume Winter should side with me. I've never made any demands of Winter. When Winter got … cranky, for lack of a better word … I tried to aim the focus of the storm into areas where the damage wouldn't be too bad, or too noticeable. Only times I couldn't were when my staff got damaged or I got trapped somewhere and couldn't leave.” He shrugged. “We've come to an accord of sorts. Winter is willing to listen to me and do as I ask as long as I don't abuse the power.” He stretched out his legs and leaned back on his elbows. “Not like I'd want to. I mean, really, a whole world of nothing but snow and ice? Where's the fun in that?” He tipped his head back to stare up at the Moon, smiling softly as the light caressed his face. “Ruling the world sounds too much like responsibilities and deadlines and I'd rather stick to snow days and fun times.”

 

Nicholas St. North studied the Winter's Child, his expression one of calm acceptance. “You will not become Guardian, will you?” It was more a statement than a question.

 

Jack rolled his head to meet the older spirit's eyes. “I don't think that would really work. At least, not the way the Man in the Moon initially thought. I like children. Love to play with them and see them happy. I'd definitely be willing to help out if something tried to tip the balance again and endanger them. But there's two problems with becoming a Guardian that no one thought of.”

 

“What problems are those, Jack?” Toothiana's amethyst eyes gazed at him fondly.

 

“You brought up the first one after your fairies were kidnapped. You mentioned that you needed a certain level of belief or you could possibly cease to exist. I don't have any believers. No one sees me. No one ever has.”

 

He heard Bunnymund's stifled curse, and saw the pained looks within the eyes of the older Spirits. Sanderson sent up the number two and a question mark.

 

“Ultimately, Pitch Black was right. You would never really feel comfortable around me, never really accept me as a Guardian.” He held out a hand to halt the automatic protests. “It's the truth. How could you when my very nature means that I may end up killing the very children you're sworn to protect?” Dead silence followed his proclamation. “People who wander out into the snow sometimes don't come back. People are injured in accidents due to ice, wind, and snow every year. Winter is a killing Season, and unless I want it to rebel and turn the world into an Ice Age, I have to let it assuage its hunger periodically. I try to mitigate the damage, but I'm not always successful.”

 

The others exchanged distressed looks. Then Bunnymund's expression firmed. “Maybe you won't be a Guardian. But you are a protector. And you won't be alone anymore, either. You're welcome to my Warren anytime, Frostbite.”

 

The others quickly echoed the sentiment and Jack grinned, his vision blurry as tears filled his eyes.

 

Sanderson showed a crooked staff, then that same staff broken in two, and a question mark.

 

“Sandy is right,” North boomed. “What happens if your staff breaks again?”

 

A smirk crossed the snow child's face. “That won't be so easy, anymore. Mother Nature confirmed that if Winter consented to work with me She'd transform my staff into ironwood. Storms would still be affected by my emotions, and sometimes Winter would need to blow off steam, but unless I break faith, I won't have to worry about an accident or an enemy unleashing Winter ever again.” The audible sighs of relief had him shaking his head, though the smile didn't dim.

  
Baby Tooth gave a questioning chirp.

 

“Of course I'll still come see you. I did before all this happened, didn't I?” she chirped affirmatively. “Then nothing's changed.” His voice dropped a bit and he looked at her shyly. “Unless you're afraid of me now?”

 

Frantic denials echoed and Jack laughed. “Okay, okay. I'm sorry for doubting you.”

 

Toothiana smiled at him and Sanderson patted Jack on the shoulder, understanding how important it was for Winter's Child to still have the support of one of his only friends.

 

“Come stay with one of us, mate,” The Pooka nudged his side. “Just for a couple of days. It'll make us feel better if you were nearby in case you need anything. It's been a stressful couple of weeks.”

 

“Alright,” Jack agreed. “But only for a few days. The Southern Hemisphere will need attention soon.”

 

The five beings rose to their feet, surrounded by the Moon's light.

 

North raised a brow, then pulled a snow globe from a pocket at Jack's nod. “To North Pole!” he shouted, throwing the globe.

 

Together, they walked through the portal.

 

 

 

End.

 

Began: 3/18/2013

Ended: 4/20/2013

Edited by Aislinn: 5/1/2013

 

 

 


End file.
